The Sacred and the Mundane

Why do we assign value to the parts of our lives, creating lists of Really Good Things, below that Stuff That Just Happens, and way at the bottom Junk We Get Through? There is a mindset that says that we work hard to get to the Good Things, and put up with all the other in order to get there. What happened to the value of everyday things?

For instance, as a homeschool mom, I find I have to “get through” those tedious days of memorizing the multiplication tables, or the screaming, hair-pulling days of complete rebellion (mine and my son's!). I stand it because there are those moments of crystal clarity, the times where you hold your breath and absorb the moment – that moment when he “gets it” or sees life in a new way, or melts your heart with thankfulness.

But what about the ordinary? Are there any rewards in Heaven for those of us that don't climb mountains or write novels or sing arias? Do we get credit for just doing our calling? Is the ordinary sacred?

I know we do, and it is. Think about the Levites, that special group of Hebrews who were set apart to keep the Tabernacle in the wilderness. They had different rules, were supported by the rest of the tribe – they were special! But think more about it. Besides caring for all the gold stuff, and doing the daily offerings, they had to maintain the Tabernacle. Let's really think about this. It was a goat hair tent, set up in the middle of the desert, where lots of people walked in and out and lots of butchering went on. They had to be janitors! In a really dirty environment! Do you think this was Junk To Get Through in order to be important Levities? No! This was as sacred to God as the rest of it.

So where do we go with this? I believe to to live life abundantly, we must live it fully. We should be as present in the mundane as in the amazing. Washing dishes can be a sacrament. Tucking in your children at night with love is an act of worship to their Creator. Simply being aware of what we are doing and why we are doing it can be as satisfying as the highest praise from someone else. Take time today to find the sacred. It's all around you, filling your life, but you must look for it.

Au Natural

Yesterday dear son was playing with the digital camera while I sat at the computer. I heard "Smile, Mom!" and turned in time for him to snap my less than elegant expression. I made the mistake of looking at the picture.

In the flattering lighting of computer monitor and desk lamp, I was jaundiced, windburned and spotty. When did I buy that turtleneck? Wait, that's MY neck!! Good heavens, when did the elastic on my body poop out like that?

Why is it that when you go barefaced in your 20s you look fresh-scrubbed and dewy, and if you try it in your forties, you look like a pair of chinos left in the dryer too long? Now that I finally have the chuzpah and self esteem to venture out in public without full-battle makeup and hair, it turns out not to be such a good choice. Why is it then when you finally come to terms with the body God gave you, you realize you really liked better the one He gave you earlier on?

There really is no justice here. And it's time to exfoliate. My, life gets complicated.

And Then You Die - A Cautionary Tale

When my son was in the Toddlers in church, he had a contemporary, also a strong-willed child. I came up to the door of the Sunday School room to hear this conversation between the little boy and his mother.
“Why can’t I climb on the railings?”
“Because you’ll fall.”
“And then what?”
“Then you’ll get hurt.”
“Then what?”
“You’ll have to go to the hospital.”
“Then what?” he asked again.
“You’ll have to have shots and stitches and casts.”
“And then what?”
His mother sighed. “And then you die.”
She must have caught my quizzical look, for she turned to me and explained. No explanation of the possible consequences of any behavior seemed to be dire enough for her son. As long as it fell short of terminal, it could possibly be alright to try. Only the phrase “And then you die,” seemed to be final and dire enough.

Strong-willed kids are risk takers. It is not enough for them to be told something is dangerous or ill-advised. Oh, no, they really must find out for themselves. After all, you couldn’t possibly be telling them the truth. There are more ways to get hurt than you have outlined for them. That is more than half the appeal, anyway! As James Dobson so aptly put it in his book Bringing Up Boys, “Boys…are slower to learn from calamities. They tend to think their injuries were caused by “bad luck”. Maybe their luck will be better next time. Besides, scars are cool.” (p.4)

My suggestion is this; tell them they’ll die. No, not really. But a strong-willed kid really is calculating the cost into the “try it” equation, and most likely will try it. You as a parent can be a ready source of information about just how costly it will be. Give them the worst case scenario. When it happens, they can’t blame you for not warning them!